Follow the Curly Adventure

A Curly Adventurer’s Pre-ramble…a re-ramble

“The Darkest before the dawn the lightest before the dark.”

It is the summer of 2016 and in the 4-ish years since I have started this blog, much has happened. The Bipolar 1 re-asserted its dominance. My 3rd major manic depressive cycle tore through life. People were hurt. Humans, friends, enemies, frienemies, family.

Life is rough seas. I seemed okay, got tripped up, you can read about that in the previous post. “Manic Depression and the Bipolar 1” Massage school commenced. Subaru was driven. Head was shaven. Heart was broken, hearts of others harmed. Space was hard won. Family was…family, difficult. Lessons were learned, forgotten and re-learned yet again. Balance was found, lost, gained, lost.

Sleep was round the clock. Lithium was taken thousands of milligrams. Wedding was had, sister celebrated. Drinks were passed, sight lost. Stumbled and fell and picked up, alone.

And now is yet another important moment. A path down into pain darkness and solitude, another high into the mountains, dry, snow, cliffs. A precarious walk. Eyes ache, soul wrenches, heart pulses, gut knows, feet ache, feet stand firm, knees wobble, shoulders close and open. Fingers fly crossing keys to infinity.

Back screams. Head hurts. Ears hurt. Blame scorches. Night starts, light the torches. Blame game, rinse repeat. Blame to tame the beast in him. Contain, cage, conquer. The cage has been broken for years. Stability, save for the pushing save for the provoking.

Disturb the bear, poke the dragon, chase the wolf, hunt the kangaroo, leer at the lion, tease the tiger, pain the puma, heckle the jaguar, jeckyll the hyde, hide run hide all run away! the monster!

The two paths, why would one go so high or so low? The spirit knows, the mind does not. The beast knows, the human mind cannot understand. They cannot follow him to the clouds, they have not the energy. They lack the will. They cannot comprehend the caves, the earth, the dark glow fathoms below the sea. They collapse under pressure. It is safe down, it is dangerous, but free of their pain. Up is scary, but they cannot fly this high. They scream from the mountains. A balloon floating away, tethered broken. Laugh as they shrink and freedom is finally found among the sky, dangerous, yet peaceful. There is a clarity in energy. Short-lived it is. An unconscious choice, brain chemistry, a reaction to pain and shame and denial. Of threats of stigma. If you show up here…call the police.”

“You can’t leave, but you can’t stay.” Sleep in the car. Sleep in the library, sleep on the walk, sleep on the street. Live the only way. Live the only way.

Slow.

Pop

Fall.

The depths stretch below. One step, two, where does that lead? Deep. Down. Dark. Away. Their torches are snuffed. They can’t see me here. Safe, but there are other monsters here other demons. Too low to go, too much to lose.

The feral demon inside. The spirit scrambles. The dragon, the angel, the tiger, the shark, the dolphin, the wolf, the dog, the cat, the tiger. The sparrow, the hawk. The Elephant remembers.

There is a middle way. Where is the middle way? The trunk searches, seeking, searching, looking, brushing aside an old growth, there, but the path is narrow. Too narrow . too long thinning to nothing ahead.

The middle way.

The human turns again. Breathes again. Grounds his soul. Directing the currents. Waiting. He turns. He walks back towards the mob. Slowly, calmly, wades through their woes. He touches his skin to their flames. The stones hit again and again. The police, the fear, the blame the guilt, the cuffs, the tranks, the tackles, the blame. Driven by fear. Weathered much worse, he has. Weathered his own dark self. One pull away, one crash to stay, gone. Risen above the clouds felt the might and terror and cold of space. Of no-one. Satellite.

And now, he breathes, and he sees. He forgot his power. He is reminded. The ability to wait, to take whatever they heap upon. The strength to bear all the guilt. Who is gonna take it if they can’t throw it on father. The Son, that is what he is made for. Shoulders big, what was all the butterfly for if not to carry the weight of my diagnosis and the weight of their worry.

Yes, I am the patient. Yes I am identified. At least I know, more than that I know who I am. Do you?

Thank you for reading. The ability to express is fundamental to my survival on the crazy bus of life. There will be more positive stuff soon.

I started this Blog Just over two years ago. In times of transition, reflection is a commonplace occurrence. Reading my first post helps me clue myself in to my stated purpose and re connect with my past self. It also helps me remember how far I have come since that day. Perhaps reading this will offer you my new readers something as well.

Life is filled with obstacles, there is a zen saying that says “the obstacle is the path.”

It is one of the hardest things to accept that the best way around a problem is straight through it. There is no one way, no one truth for happiness for life is diverse. Life is infinite divergence, no one truth exists; there is only perspective and experience. That is what we all must gain, a wider lens through diverse experience. George Carlin once said, “Trying to be happy by accumulating possessions is like trying to satisfy hunger by taping sandwiches all over your body.” He was right pretending we are happy by disguising our lives with material possessions is a waste of the human mind, body, and spirit.

A traveler’s soul is unsettled when stationary. Mine has been awakened with an abundant vigor. I have seen three years of the stationary post college, settled life. This is not desirable. The world is flat; there is no reason to stay in one place. I am called outward. My heart, my soul, my intuition tells me to dive into the world. There are many ways and many paths, but the most important thing is to listen to yourself. That is how we find our true harmony with the world. A wise woman once told me, “The best thing about life is when you are in those incredible serendipitous moments following your intuition and find yourself in awe thinking, ‘what is happening? Is this real? And it is real.'” This feeling of magical disbelief is more enlivening than anything external. It is true experience.

It is this feeling that I seek. Introduced many times this summer, adventuring locally, I can see that there is so much world to see and so many places to be. At last I am alive. For many years, I repeated the mantras I want to travel, I want to write. And all those days of thought and dreams have culminated into this answer. Travel. Live. Write. Love.

My travelers soul has a bunk mate deep in my being. That is a writer’s whim. The traveler and writer have been hibernating deep within this curly corporeal form, but no more. They emerge. The purpose of this blog is to document those magically serendipitous moments and the journey between them, while providing a vehicle and a purpose for the pen, or the keyboard, to present itself.

I hope to entertain, inspire, astound, make nervous, tickle, prickle, enliven, connect with, share adventure with a wide audience or perhaps only my family and close friends. I want to demonstrate that a life of travel, fulfillment, and experience is possible even if you only make minimum wage…for now. People often get caught up in the rat race of accumulation of things, wages, work, and of course debt. But as a young person just starting out the best thing we have is our open minds and our open hearts. Now is the time to see the world. It is time to plug-in to the real world outside of our safe little bubbles. I’d rather be broke and have a brilliant story to share then cower in safety looking forward to a day when I finally have time to live.

The impetus for this project is my imminent trip to Peru next week. I am leaving for Cusco via Portland, Denver, Miami, and Lima tomorrow.

In short, I plan to follow my heart and find happiness through a richness of experience. I hope to reveal the path of life.